Thursday, 30 July 2015

After contemplating for four long years, we finally took the plunge.
After months of planning and running around, we finally allowed ourselves the indulgence of a renovation.
Of nothing much ... not life; not soul.
But of our kitchen.

That one place that is most dear to me. To the both of us.
We like to spend most of our time in our kitchen. Many of our happy discussions and serious decisions take place there .... with B sitting with his plate on the little swivel chair that I use, and I rolling out rotis and flipping one hot roti after another from the stove into his plate. Then we would switch places.
At times it would be dosas. At other times, the omelette.
Or a simple cup of tea.
At times it would be raining outside. Or it would be a cold, winter night.
For us, our little kitchen is our home.

I had been dreaming of a more streamlined, organised kitchen, for long.
Initially it was just a dream.
Later it became a necessity ... given my limited capabilities these days.
But unlike my real self, this was one project I was very afraid of taking up. Questions loomed large.
What if it does not turn out the way I want it to be?
What if I do not get the colours I want?
Not like; want.
What if the planners do not like my designs? Or plans?
And so on.

And to an extent, it turned out I was right all along.
Sitting down with obnoxious people, who do not know the ABC s of design and are absolute zeroes when it came to practicality, was a pain we endured for months.
Then came the part when I was denied the colours I wanted. Worse, I was suggested what colours I should be going for.
Needless to say, those guys got struck off from my list faster than you could blink.
And the final straw was when I was denied anything that made my kitchen practical to use and easy for me to work in.
I did not want a lavish, 'good looking, modular' kitchen. I wanted an 'easy to work in', practical kitchen.
But all the guys could do was not see that.

So after an agonising few months, B one day announced that we are going the wrong way all along.
Read ... approaching the wrong people.
What we should be doing is approach the right people who knew both civil work,plumbing,electric work as well as a good carpenter.
To me this sounded like asking for all the good places to see in the world at one place, together.

But I was wrong. And I have never been gladder for that.
B sought out the guy who had worked with the builders of this housing society. The man knew every brick, every wall and every electric wire ways and every other detail inside the skeleton of this flat.
More importantly, he knows what needs to be done and what is unnecessary.
He understood what I wanted in the kitchen.
For example I wanted the counter top to be able to be scrubbed with soap and water ... yes, I am old fashioned. But that is the only way I believe I can clean after I have cooked Ilish.
Or any other fish, for that matter.
None of the kitchen designers was ready to allow me that.
But this guy understood the necessity of a clean kitchen.

Hence, we have smoothly crossed that part.
Got a clean and practical design too.
Hopefully, all will go well.
Right now, as I type this, the workers are hammering the kitchen down.
The exhaust is running ... trying its best to blow out the dust.
And I am looking forward to trying out new places to eat for the next few days.
Wish me luck guys!

I am finally posting the simple Aloo Baingan ki sukhi sabzi that I had made for lunch along with the Saabut Masoor ki dal.
I make this sukhi sabzi very often ... mostly for dinner. I love dryish dishes slightly overdone ... a little on the mushier side. I find that the flavours blend together very well this way.
The onions and the brinjals add moisture ... so there is no need to add any water.
But if you still need to, you can sprinkle some.

And I almost always have a bottle of roasted and coarsely ground or crushed peanuts / groundnuts in my kitchen. While it comes handy whenever I am making the Sabudana Khichadi, I also use it to spike anything from a chutney to a simple, dry sabzi like this one.
Sprinkle a few teaspoonfuls and watch your sabzi going to another level altogether.

Friday, 24 July 2015

I know, I know. I have a little too many Ilish recipes on my blog.
But then, I am sure you are not complaining. Or are you?
Come monsoons and I do buy at least one Hilsa fish to satiate my cravings for it. After all, I wait patiently the whole year through and never make do with the false ones, from the shores of Gujarat or Andhra, that make their way into the markets through out the year.
And my fishwala never disappoints me too.
"Aapke liye sirf Kalkatta Hilsa", he says.

And when I get that more than one kilo of divinely smelling fish home, I have to rustle up all the recipes I know with the Ilish.
The head, the tail, the petis, the gadas, the roe ... all have different recipes to go into.
And I make full use of them.
Resulting in a happy me, with a zen like smile on my face, that you can get to see only on a cat after it leaves a kitchen that has just seen fish cooked.
And some good Ilish posts.
And a grumpy B, who has to suffer through these 2 months of monsoons when I get the Ilish home.

But this year, I haven't brought an Ilish home; not yet.
I had a couple of recipes lying around from last to last year and hence making some posts.
The last one and this. I don't think I have anymore.
And I don't think I will be cooking the Ilish this time.
Will go to my current favourite Assamese restaurant when I get the craving.

Of late, I have seen a number of people coming over here, browse through and then only too soon I see a post on their blogs.
Most of them think they are savvy enough to make changes to the recipe by adding a spoonful of an unnecessary ingredient just to make it look different. Like adding jeera to a recipe that has mustard seeds as tempering is so out and out foolish.
And sometimes a shoddy photograph along with one of mine.
I am assuming that they are new bloggers but at times there are older bloggers too.
All I say to them is dear ones, do be a little original.
I know these recipes are common but there can be a whole bunch of changes in them from family to family.
Like picking up my Thamma's recipe and saying it is your cook's recipe is just not done.

And as for plagiarism of ideas, I really have nothing to say.
Have long given up hope of seeing any light in these blokes' brains.

Coming to today's recipe, I had made a light Ilish er jhol with cumin and ginger paste.
Remember?If not, it is here.

So I had this masala left and wanted to use it with the Ilish head this time.
Did not want an ambol or tauk.
So decided on the muri ghonto.

I had never made muri ghonto with anything other than the Rui or the Katla head. So this was going to be new. It does not have any onion or garlic and hence can be called a Niramish muri ghonto too.

The fact that Ilish has a lot more and much finer bones in the head did not deter me at all.
My Dadu, Ma's father, was well known for his ability to chew and finish off all the bones of the Ilish head.
And as his grand daughter, the least I could do was to try it once.

Monday, 20 July 2015

The monsoons and the Hilsa come to us together. Hand in hand.
Both make their way into our hearts with ease.
One drenches us with sweet, life giving rain ... washing away the dust and the heat and all things painful ... leaving behind a cleaner, fresher new time.
The other makes its way to our plates and satiates us after months of waiting for its arrival.
Both, in their own ways soothes a Bengali's soul.

I have been away from the blog and my routine daily life for a while now. There are times when family takes precedence and you have to give it its due.
There have been mornings, of late, when instead of thinking of my morning tea, I have had to think of breakfast that will suit every palate.
And then lunches and dinners.
And guests and relatives.
At times it is overwhelming.
At others, boisterous and happy.
Seeing everybody stick around at times of crisis can be a hugely heart warming experience.

I do not think I will have much Ilish this time ... both to cook as well as eat.
After returning, I went through my drafts to see if there was anything that I could make a quick post on, before rushing off for another trip.
And found these photographs languishing from last year.

I usually always bake whenever I make the shorshe Ilish.
But this time, I had made it on the open stove top.
And found there was a definite change in the flavours.
For example, the Kalo jeere / Nigella seeds do not lend that strong flavour when used in the baking version as they do here .... when released into the hot mustard oil.
Even there is a difference in the flavour of the green chillies.
Also the gravy here misses that distinct smoky flavour that we get when cooking it in the oven.The baked version is here.

Soak the mustard seeds in water for 3 hours.
Add enough water to grind into a smooth paste. I never add salt or green chillies when grinding mustard seeds.
Do remember that the grinder should not turn hot while grinding the mustard. Else your mustard paste will turn bitter. Use short pulses when grinding.
I keep the soaked seeds in the fridge for around 15 minutes before grinding.
Strain it through a sieve.

Tuesday, 7 July 2015

There are illnesses and then there are illnesses.
And when an illness makes itself known, whether it is you or a loved one, you get a fresh new view of life.
Especially if it is family.
It is as if someone has held you by the scruff of your neck and has given a good shake, reopening your eyes to a fresh new outlook.
You see life from a different plane.
And your every day, mundane tasks and complaints look so very miniscule.

It is at times like these that you get comfort from the only real thing in life ... omnipresent and ever needed ... food.
Simple food. Comfort food. Light food.
Food that will settle inside you without so much of a thump.
Food that will lull you to a calm.
And help you see through the days that seem so dark that you almost start to doubt the adage of the light at the end of the tunnel.

It is this light jhol that I have turned to so many times ever since I made this for the first time fellow blogger Kalyan shared the recipe on Fb.
It is his Didu's recipe and like all grandmoms' recipes are, is very lovable.
This very loved fish curry and rice always helps to bring a sense of calm in me.

This is a very easy macher jhol recipe. In fact the easiest you can come across, ever, I guess.

Fry the fish lightly.
I fry fish to a crisp on both sides only when I am making the rich Kalia. For this curry, however, I just let it into the smoking hot oil, lowered the flame, turned it once and brought it out.

Cut the potatoes and the parwal in similar pieces.
Soak the red chilli + jeera + dhaniya + haldi powder in a little water.

There is a crisis in the family and I'll be leaving shortly to be with them.
Hence will be away from my kitchen for a while.
But I'll be back next month with many more recipes.
Stay with me, dear readers.

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About Me

Juggles with software, knitting, reading, cooking, classical music,writing and home decor.
Loves Enid Blyton and Rabindranath with equal passion.
Roams the country when life seems a wee little overwhelming.
And when at peace too.
Loves everything traditional and cooks with the minimal of ingredients and time.
Holds on to sun rays and moon beams with equal fervour.